


A thousand life times for you

by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Other, Reincarnation, snk veterans secret santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOutTetradecagon/pseuds/ArbitraryRambunctious
Summary: Happy endings are a rare occurence in the survey corps.For them it takes several tries.





	1. Viridescent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecrazysugarlover](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thecrazysugarlover).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo!
> 
> This fic was written as a part of [Alemanriq's](https://alemanriq.tumblr.com/) veteran secret santa on tumblr for [thecrazysugarlover](https://thecrazysugarlover.tumblr.com)  
> Apologies for taking my sweet time with this, but I finally got around to finish this. This is my first time writing a reincarnation fic or snk for that matter, so I really hope you like it (or some parts of it at least since I honestly had no idea what to do with this and might've gone a bit overboard, hehe ^^; )
> 
> Also, apoligies for any mistake, this is unbetaed and english is not my first language orz
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this mess of a fic

**Viridescent**

_ Adjective _

_ Greenish or becoming green _

* * *

 

The clanging of metal bottles and gear can be heard from the far end of the base, alerting Levi of the arrival of the new batch. The noise is painfully loud compared to the eerie silence that had previously signified a much needed break for the weary soldiers. Levi doesn’t get up, or pay it much mind at all. Instead he chooses to relish in what little time he has before the camp will undoubtedly be flooded by raunchy young boys, still unscathed by the cruelties of war. Outside of the cramped living space, he can hear voices approaching.

He sighs, and shoves his few belongings into his coat pockets. A gun rests heavily on his shoulder. It’s an ugly thing, long and bulky with a short blade at the end. Most would say he’s and expert at wielding it, though it feels so many levels of wrong when it is in his hands. Part of him wants to blame it on the fact that it was made to kill humans, but then again, it’s war, and that is exactly what is expected of him; expected of  _ it.  _ The blade is still covered in dirt and dried blood. He did his best to clean it out, but no matter how hard his cold fingers pried at the dirt it didn’t come off. It never does.

The same dirt clings to everything down here. It seeps into his clothes, gets stuck in the soles of his boots and infests every inch of his soul until he’s afraid he’ll suffocate. Some already has, or at least bowed down to whatever disease caught them in the end, their wounds just as dirt ridden as everything else in their goddamn camp. Still he endures, some unknown force driving him forward each day. Maybe it’s because whatever hell he is currently living is still better than the dreams.

He’s not the only dreamer, although the rest of the soldiers are not the same. His own dreams feel so real, as if he’s reliving a distant memory, even though he knows nothing of it ever happened. Or so he tells himself. Any other truth would be deemed as madness, and that is the last thing he needs. 

Still, sometimes he can almost imagine the feeling of flying, some twisted joke taunting him with freedom as he is almost struck down by the ugly beasts which are only his.

The blood on his hands is as stuck as the dirt, and yet, he is never haunted by the soldiers he’s killed in the trenches. The faces in his dreams are far worse, never accusing. Most of them are people he’s never met before, there for a split second only to fade with his vague memories of the dreams as he wakes. Others are more familiar. More than once he’s dreamt of Erwin. He’s dreamt of Furlan and Isabelle and even old man Kenny. And then there’s them. Brown hair, manic grin and a pair of broken goggles. He can’t remember their face or a name, but they’re always there, teeth twisted into a snarl or a grin as their blood stains their clothes. Whatever he did in his past life to deserve being haunted like this must’ve been far worse than both trenches and petty crime.

He often hears other soldiers screaming in their sleep, lashing out at their undoubtedly human enemies. Their screams fill the air like some sick excuse of a choir. He dares not sleep during the nights, not really afraid that their screams will somehow affect him, but rather of his own. The last thing he wants is the pity of some random stranger. Pity leads into conversations, which leads into relations. He has enough on his conscience as it is.

He doesn’t realise he’s nodded off before Erwin is shaking his shoulder, gently demanding that he wakes up. He grunts annoyedly, shoving the older man off, though he’s grateful for the brief period of dreamless sleep he was allowed. Erwin is one of the few people he even bothers to interact with. Partly because he is his superior, but also because he somehow feels an odd sense of relief from having him around. The two of them often spend their downtime together, rarely talking much. Just knowing the other is there is enough.

He adjusts his helmet and leaves his superior officer to deal with whatever boring shit he must do when Levi’s not there. Erwin is a busy man, and the fact that they’re in the middle of a war makes it even harder for Levi to lay down a claim to his time. Not that his time was ever really for Levi to claim. They both got obligations, bound to their roles with medals and titles.

He shuffles outside, squinting at the harsh light. There is a chill in the air promising a wintry night, just the right conditions to welcome the new recruits he thinks drily. He can see his breath, creating frosty clouds, snake out into the air like gas. If voice had shape, this would be it. The voices of the soldiers steadily grow louder.

And then they’re there.

About a hundred of them, all dressed in the same earth coloured uniform. Some staring in awe at the crude infrastructure, others looking mildly sick. He doesn’t meet their eyes, refuses to greet any of them. Chances are he’s going to outlive them, and if he doesn’t, he’ll spare them whatever pain making attachments will surely bring them. Tomorrow they could all be dead. He has learned to expect nothing.

He does not expect Hanji Zoë

His first impression is not the best. Unlike the others who clumps themselves together like a herd of sheep, the final recruit to enter the camp is moving slowly, their nose stuck in some sort of notebook. For some reason it annoys him. Sure, they occasionally get all sorts of ridiculously spoiled brats, completely unfit for war, but as annoying as they are Levi rarely bothers to put much energy into berating them.

And yet he is making his way across the camp to the lone bespectacled soldier with annoyance in his stride. They look up at him as he approaches, first in confusion but then with a grin. It isn’t before he’s a couple of metres away from them that he realises they’re almost a head taller than him. Even for him, berating someone a head taller than you is mildly difficult.

They cock their head to the side, eyes seeking his curiously. “You’re that midget squad captain, right?”

“Excuse me?” He isn’t sure if he should feel offended. In ways, it’s almost laughable how much the lanky officer in front of him doesn’t get with the overhanging depressing aura of the godforsaken place. Levi gapes slightly, not sure how to react.

The taller soldier presents their hand to him, still grinning. They’re wearing what appears to be a set of homemade goggles underneath their helmet, the metal framing the glass messily melded together. Brown eyes stares down at him expectantly, insisting that he takes the offered hand. He grips it uncertainly, frowning slightly.

“Squad leader Hanji Zoë. That’s my squad over there if you were wondering. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Captain Levi Ackerman. They never said anything about another squad leader,” Levi mutters, half to himself. For a moment he wonders if Erwin might’ve known something and simply not told him, but he shakes the thought immediately. Surely there has to be a mistake.

“You don’t look like any of the other squad leaders who’s been assigned here.”

Hanji’s eyebrows shoot almost comically up into the messy mop of brown hair that’s falling into their eyes. They smile sheepishly, making a shrugging gesture. “I suppose that is true. Actually, I’m in the science and development department, but you know, tough times. We should all use whatever means we have to end this, right?”

Levi tries to pretend he didn’t hear that smidge of uncertainty in their voice, but it doesn’t calm him down much. He watches as Hanji’s underlings stumble through the wet mud that’s soon to be their living space. Whoever decided that the lives of those soldiers would be what’s needed for tipping the scales obviously hasn’t seen the harsh reality they’re facing.

Gritting his teeth, he turns on his heel, beckoning for Hanji to follow, which they do, albeit at the same relaxed pace they were going about earlier. Levi tries not to let it get to him, as there is no reason for him to be annoyed. After all, there isn’t really a concept of time in their current situation. All there is, is the volleys of incoming fire and the time in between. In the end it doesn’t really matter if they waste time now, cause either way they’ll be out on the battlefield soon enough, and then no discussions with Erwin will decide whether they live or they die.

* * *

The first attack after the arrival of squad Hanji is a catastrophe. Not only are their losses tragically high, but the majority of the survivors suffer from severe injuries. Levi watches with a passive face as Erwin is removed from command and relieved of his duty. His right arm is wrapped in a bloodstained wad of bandages, most likely beyond fixing. If only he lives through the infection that’s undoubtedly festering in the gaping wound, it’ll be a miracle, not to mention the numerous smaller wounds received from flying splinters.

Hanji comes out of it with a broken eye and a still upbeat spirit, much to Levi’s disdain. It’s almost creepy how cheery they can still be after watching half their squad get shot down right in front of them. Even with their left eye out of commission, they somehow manage to wrangle the superiors into letting them stay, which is beyond Levi. Any other soldier would take their ticket to leave faster than a bullet is out of a gun.

But no, Hanji keeps trudging on like nothing bad ever happened to them, and by chance, Levi happens to be the poor bastard who suffers for it. It is how he ends up sitting leaned up against the muddy wall of the trench, helping the mad scientist disassemble their guns. He tries not to think about the likelihood of them both dying should and assault be launched while the two of them is waist deep in their own comrades’ gun parts, he really does. He can only imagine what would happen should they by dumb luck manage to survive said assault, only to be caught as the very reason their own side didn’t have any functioning weapons, and then where would they be?

When he silently voices his contempt in hushed whispers, afraid to wake anyone, Hanji assures him whatever theory they’re testing out will pay off, so he shuts his mouth and sulks internally instead. The sound of tinkering is strangely calming. It is a sound belonging somewhere else. A somewhere he has almost forgotten.

“One day you know, this place will be all green again.”

Levi flicks his gaze over to his friend? Comrade? Partner in crime? Hanji is hard to define. They don’t look up from their work. Their bangs, caked with mud falls in front of their eyes. Levi wonders what it’d look like without all the dirt. Would it be pretty? He likes to think so.

“One day this will all be forgotten, and the grass can grow again, and there’ll be trees and flowers and the world will have moved on.”

Levi snorts, frowning slightly. “What brought this on?”

Hanji shrugs, and continues their tinkering. “I don’t know. It’s just nice to think about don’t you think? Makes it feel like there’s hope. Maybe we’ll get to live in that world someday.” They grin wolfishly, teeth and everything bared at him.

“Not if we die here. You should concentrate on what you’re doing now. Might save you from losing another eye. Your sight is shitty enough as it is.”

“Won’t save me from having to look at your constipated face though,” they shoot back jokingly. Levi sighs. For a moment he can imagine them just like this, trading bad insults in a world where the grass could indeed grow to be a lush green. It feels like an old memory, but then his mind strays to blood and monsters and nightmares, and he tucks the idea away. Living elsewhere won’t do him any good.

* * *

As if fated they end up together on the battlefield. There are explosions and the sound of guns going off all around them, making it hard to think. They dive down behind the crumpled shell of a broken tank, taking a moment to regain their breath.

“We should pull back!” Levi can barely hear them shouting over the constant noise. He huddles closer to them as an explosion goes off nearby. His hands are slippery with blood where they cling to Hanji’s uniform, and with a start, he realises it is fresh. Cursing he scans the field in order to find them a safe route back to the trench, but to no avail. He needs to get them out of there quick, before their wounds get infected, or worse, they get hurt by something else. Another explosion goes off near them, and he is pushed down to the ground, the air getting knocked out of him as Hanji curls into a protective ball above him.

When he opens his eyes again he can see the tears streaming down their face. A sizeable chunk of shrapnel is embedded in their side, blood slowly seeping out around it. It makes Levi want to scream. Scream because it is cruel and unfair, and he shouldn’t have met Hanji Zoë only to lose them again. He can feel the weak laugh as their body makes a last effort to remain upright.

“It’s just like before, isn’t it? We never did get to see the ocean. Do you remember?”

He shakes his head, not quite wanting to, cause he  _ knows _ . He’s known for some time now. Exactly who they are, and of course they couldn’t stay away and let him live his fucked-up life without their shitty face interfering. Not in this life, not in the past. The sound of bones cracking when the titan picked them up as if they weighed nothing is suddenly clear in his mind. He can remember the silence, their blades blunted and useless in their hands, no screams as they accepted fate. They don’t scream this time either.

When the blast hits him, he doesn’t feel afraid. All he can do is pray they get a new chance.


	2. Liminal

**Liminal**

_ Adjective _

_ Relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process _

* * *

 

The door creaks loudly as eager hands slams it open. The force of it hitting the outer wall makes plaster crumble from the badly painted walls. Levi flinches, looking up from the book in his lap. He barely has the time to move it out of the way before a slimy blob is dropped onto his lap. He grits his teeth to keep from screaming. In his lap, the blob croaks, what is possibly the ugliest toad he’s ever had the misfortune to see making itself comfortable. He can feel whatever fluids it’s coated in seep into his pants. Angrily, he looks up and is met with a crooked expectant grin.

“So, what do you think?”

“What the hell four-eyes? It’s disgusting.” The toad croaks again. Levi could swear it is sporting a smug look on its ugly face. If it weren’t for the fact that it is undoubtedly even more nasty to touch than lifting it off with his hands, he would already have chucked it into the nearest wall. Hanji shuffles where they stand, completely ignoring his rude comment.

“I found him under the bridge. Mr. Shadis said I had to put it back again, but I think I could smuggle it into my room. I’ve named him Bean.” Their words fall out of their mouth like domino bricks tumbling, fast and uncontrolled.  

Levi nods, silently hoping they’ll take a hint and remove their new pet from his vicinity. However, they seem to have temporarily forgotten, eyes gluing themselves to Levi’s book. His face heats up slightly, hands itching to hide it away.

“Still having problems with that?” The question is innocent, but it makes Levi’s insides twist nevertheless. Reading is simply not something that comes easy for him. The words on the yellowing pages swim before his eyes, giving less and less meaning the longer he sits. He sighs, closing his book with a thump.

“You should go before the old goat comes back.”

“He’s being unfair to you. It’s not your fault you’re bad at reading. Everyone else got to start a lot earlier, besides, Nile is just as bad and he’s from the city.” Their face is resolute again. No matter how many times he tells them it’s okay, they won’t stop ranting about how the headmaster treats him. It’s charming in a way, but Levi knows they have enough problems themselves. He isn’t one to complain about a few hours of detention. His stay at the boarding school is only temporary anyway.

“He doesn’t need to know.” They grab his hand with their right, scooping Bean up into the other. Levi almost stumbles as Hanji pulls him out of his chair.

“You’ll get in trouble again,” Levi hisses. Hanji just grins maniacally, their long legs covering the distance between the classroom and the front door in a few seconds. A few of the other students look up in surprise when they come crashing into the courtyard, but they quickly look away when Levi sends them his infamous death glare, praying that no one will tell the headmaster.

Hanji doesn’t stop before they’re inside a small shed-made-bedroom on the outskirts of the school grounds, shoving Levi in front of themselves. He’s gasping for air, his heart beating rapidly for a multitude of reasons. He can’t help but smile weakly at Hanji who is grinning impishly at him. They lock their door and shoves past him, placing Bean down on their bed. The toad croaks contently, as if it wasn’t just lugged across the schoolground faster than his little toad body could ever hope to travel by itself.

Levi sits himself down in the only chair in the room. The small space is littered with books and half-finished experiments. A crudely made model of the solar system is suspended from nails in the roof. On a wobbly bedside table, a leather bound notebook is haphazardly thrown. A set of crossing wings is carved into the cover. 

Being the only child of the previous headmaster, Hanji has been living on the school grounds their whole life. When Levi was brought to the school by the city police, Hanji’s father had just passed away, leaving them to the same fate as all the other kids at the all-boys school. Except Hanji isn’t a boy, and the headmaster is an old-fashioned shit, hence the shed.

They open one of the many books in the room, finding a paragraph about toads.

“He’ll need water,” they mutter to themselves. Their bangs fall into their face, only kept out of their eyes by a set of thin-rimmed glasses. The suspenders of their overalls are slipping off their shoulders. Levi doesn’t right them or comment on it, content in watching them coddle the toad. Despite their differences, Hanji is easy to like.

When they have settled the toad in their collection of moss samples, they turn to Levi again. “We’ll need to get him some actual water eventually but this will do for now, and also my samples could need some moisturising again.”

“We?” Levi eyes the toad grudgingly.

“It’s a long walk to the well,” they huff. “I can’t carry all that water by myself, dumbass.”    

“You’re fit enough to walk there twice.”

“Levi, that’s so cold of you,” they cry, clinging to his arm pleadingly. It makes Levi’s face heat up again against his will. He huffs, trying to pry Hanji off himself.

“I still need to finish my extra homework. I’ve already been gone too long.”

“I’ll do it for you. I’ll do it for the rest of the month. Please Levi, it’s boring to go alone.”

“Don’t be stupid, Shadis will notice right away. I’m sure Moblit will help you if you ask him. He’s always following you around anyway.”

Their form deflates, the grip on his arm loosening. Their entire form is shaking in an effort not to spill the tears forming in their eyes. Levi rarely sees Hanji cry, and when they do it’s never for themselves. It’s always for one of their pets when they pass away, or for the animals who serves as test subjects in their biology classes. For a moment he considers taking whatever punishment headmaster Shadis will bestow upon him should he fail to deliver.      

They sit down on their bed, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I was just hoping to spend some more time with you. I’ve been meaning to tell you, I might not be allowed to stay for much longer.”

Levi blinks in disbelief. He half expects Hanji to just laugh it off and tell him it’s a joke and then continue to nag on him like they usually do. Hanji is not one to give up, he should’ve understood it was odd for them to do so.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Well, I am,” they shoot back, suddenly angry. Levi shivers, knowing how much damage during a temper tantrum. He bites his lip, not sure how to react. When he looks up, they refuse to meet his eyes.

“Did Shadis decide this?”

“Nile snitched on me for that one time I snuck into the dorm. Apparently that was the last straw. It’s not like I didn’t use to sleep there before father passed away. Talk about dumb excuses, right?”

Levi grumbles, cursing Shadis in his head. “This is idiocy, you’re by far the smartest kid here. Where would they send you anyway?”

“I don’t know, Levi. I guess into the city. Times are getting uncertain. Erwin said we might just as well be on the threshold to another war.”

“Erwin-, believes a lot. Besides, you’re the heir to this place. Why did you suddenly just accept him messing with you? It’s not like you at all.”

“I don’t really have a choice!” They claps their hand over their mouth, realising they were shouting. “You don’t understand Levi. I have things I want to protect too. It might be better if I leave. Erwin will be the next in line after me, and he’s a far better leader than I could ever be. Besides, I’m almost sixteen, I’ll manage.”

“So you’re just gonna leave?” 

“Leaving doesn’t mean not coming back. This is all just a transitional phase.”

“Everyone likes to believe that.”

They take his hands and rests them in their lap, smile bittersweet. He almost believes them for a second. Few others have that same life force to drive them, and yet he can’t shake the feeling that they’re burning their candle too brightly, too fast. Neither of them were ever born into the world to grow old. They lean forwards, touching their lips to his forehead. “I promise.”

* * *

True to their word, Hanji is forced to leave only two weeks after the frog incident. Levi watches from his desk in the drafty old classroom as Hanji loads a single suitcase into the school’s carriage, the coachman, patting their shoulder. A handmade pendant shaped like a set of crossing wings hangs from his neck, heavy with the promise of seeing them again.

The following days are painfully silent. 

Surprisingly, Shadis stops hovering over him. Flagon stops giving him detention every other class. When he asks Erwin, he shrugs, telling Levi not to worry too much about it. He isn’t stupid. It is blatantly evident just what kind of deal Hanji must’ve made, without his consent. 

* * *

It feels ironic when he is the one who ends up breaking the promise. He grips Hanji’s pendant tight, bracing himself for another round of coughs. His throat feels like someone’s scrubbed it with sandpaper.

Some part of him wonders if Hanji is still alive. They always went on about other lives. In his last hours, it soothes him to think of. Maybe he’ll be able to find them next time. The nurse pats his head with a wet cloth. He coughs. 

Voicelessly he apologises, as if they’re there to hear. He makes them a new promise. He will find them again, and next time, he will tell them what he really feels. 

Few dies with a smile on their face, but Levi was always an abnormal anyway. 

 


	3. Anathema

**Anathema**

_ Noun _

_ Something or someone that one vehemently dislikes _

He’s been at their heels for days. The coal coats his lungs in a layer of slime and dust, making every breath a pain in the ass, or rather the throat. What a disgusting place to hide in, just like them. Frowning, he adjusts the grip on the small handgun. 

Dust is stirred up with every step he takes, his boot creaking against dry dirt that cries out for rain like a hoarse old man. It is stifling hot too, what a drag.

The local bar and inn is easy to locate, being the only building in the small town that doesn’t appear to be falling apart. A group of drunkards is huddled outside the doors, relishing in the slim strip of shade the overhanging roof provides. They snarl at him when he walks past, toothless gums and runny eyes glaring at him. 

The bar is dimly lit and just as sweltering as the outside. There are only a few people dumb enough to endure the warmth there; most of them elderly men who’s too far gone in their bottles to notice the hostile environment. It is almost ridiculously easy to pick them out among the crowd. 

They’re sitting on a table right by the bar, a glass of a opacent substance nestled in their hand. A pair of aviator goggles is shoved up into their hair, making it even more messy than usual. Levi grins slightly, kicking out the chair on the opposite end of the table and sitting down on it. They grin at him smugly, even though if there’s anyone who should be smug it is him. It’s almost like they’re playing games with him letting him catch up this easily.

“The seat is taken,” there’s a playful glint in their eyes.

“It is now,” he retorts. They sip their drink calmly, not making any move to escape. It makes Levi jittery, knowing the infamous enemy science officer is sitting on a lot of valuable information. He’s lost count of how many times he’s  _ almost _ caught them, which is frankly quite embarrassing. He’s supposed to be one of the best special agents in his country, not to mention in this war. Still, Squad leader Hanji Zoë is a slippery bastard whose favourite past time is outsmarting people. Not his time though, he won’t let them make a fool out of him again.

“Relax short stack. I’m not going anywhere, in fact, I’ve come to make a deal.” They down the last of their drink, leaning across the table towards him. Their breath smells like the alcohol they just consumed. 

“I’ve already told you, I’m not switching sides. This is not some kind of game.”

“Oh but it is. Do you really fight for them or for yourself? Does it really matter whose blood is on your hands when it’s going to be there anyway. You’re like me. You have no business in this war but to end it, and we both know who the losing side is.”

“What do you really want?” He meets their eyes, deep brown irises, lively just like them. They tap their chin in mock thoughtfulness. 

“The book you carry, where did you get it?” 

Levi frowns, not having expected the question. Hanji stares him down patiently, allowing him time to pull the battered brown journal out of his jacket. They nod in confirmation when he looks up at them, questioning.

“I can’t remember. But it’s personal, so i can’t see what you’re going to do with it.” They fish out a necklace, the pendant strikingly familiar, a pair of crossed wings. 

“This symbol, do you know what it means?” Their eyes meets his. For the first time since he was assigned tracking them down, he can sense an underlying desperation to their motives. He picks up the journal and rifles through the pages. The symbol appears several times within the book, but more importantly, it contains records of things he thought only existed in his dreams. He doesn’t know what it means, but he keeps it as a reminder that he isn’t going mad.

“It’s from a dream of mine.”

“Tell me.” He raises an eyebrow, leaning into their space. Hanji smirks, following his example, their lips almost touching. He can feel their breath on his face.

“What is it to you? You’re a scientist. I didn’t think people like you cared about far fetched theories.”

“Science grows from far-fetched theories, and I happen to find this one quite interesting.” They make a grab for the book, but Levi is faster, making them faceplant into the table. They make a comical noise like a balloon being squished. 

“If this is what you wanted I might as well detain you right now. I’m tired of playing games.”

“Please Levi, I’ll give you whatever you want. Your book for the information you’re after, how about it?” Their pleading eyes might almost have been convincing if it hadn’t been Hanji. 

He narrows his eyes. “And how the fuck would I know you’re actually keeping your end of the deal? For all I know you’d just feed me some random shit that anyone could know and you’d be on your merry way with  _ my _ book. 

“Ah, that’s too bad then.” 

He barely has the time to duck before they upset the table at him. The bar owner screams loudly behind them, but neither of them pay him any mind. Hanji lunges for the book again, using the momentary confusion to snatch it out of his hand. 

Levi growls, and sets after them, not caring about the shocked stares from the other customers. They end up crashing out the doors, dust stirring up into the air around them. Hanji is able to pry him off, and send him sprawling with a well aimed kick to the shins.

_ Foul playing bastard _

They only manages to get a few seconds of a headstart, but despite his short stature, Levi is a fast runner, easily keeping up with them despite their liking for winding back streets. He pushes down a steadily growing feeling of disgust as they enter the blackened part of the town that deals with coal production. Swearing loudly under his breath, he speeds up, rounding a corner so fast he slams into them, not expecting a dead end. Hanji squeaks indignantly, squirming to get loose from his hold. They shamelessly tucks the book down the front of their shirt, managing to land a powerful slap to his face before he’s gotten hold of both their wrists, pinning them to the wall at the sides of Hanji’s head.

They both just stand there, breathing heavily for a moment.  Levi bumps his head against Hanji’s shoulder, allowing himself to calm down. He doesn’t realise his mistake before a set out teeth is clamping down on his ears, making him hiss in pain. If making him let go of them was their intention, it was effective. Both of Levi’s hands shoot up to his ear, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What the fuck was that?” Hanji smirks, eyes flicking between him and the alley, definitely calculating an escape route. He takes a broader stance, ready to grab them should they try anything.

“Desperate measures,” they chirps nonchalantly. Levi scowls, letting go of his throbbing ear. He doesn’t even want to think of what gross stuff Hanji might’ve put in their mouth earlier.

“Okay shortie, how about we make a deal. I return your book, and you just tell me its contents and I tell you what I know. That way, neither of us is at an advantage.”

“And how will I know if you’re lying?”

They shrug, adjusting their goggles to keep them from falling off. “You won’t but neither will I. We’ll just have to trust each other. Call it a temporary truce.”

Levi grits his teeth, then sighs. It’s by far the best deal he’s gotten out of them, and honestly, he’s tired of chasing after them like some distant dream. Nodding, he reaches out his hand.

“Shake on it.” 

Hanji grins. “That’s the spirit!”

* * *

In hindsight, allowing them to take him back to the bar was probably a horrible idea. His mind feels numb from the alcohol he consumed, and his head hasn't stopped spinning in the entirety of the past hour. He buries into his pillow, wishing the headache away. Beside him, Hanji is still breathing heavily, not yet down from their high. They’re grinning stupidly up at the ceiling, their slightly crooked nose slightly red from where he bit it in retaliation. He drags his palm down his face, still not sure how they managed to convince him to bed his most hated nemesis. Not that he regrets it.

Hanji starts humming, a familiar tune which he can’t really place. It is soothing, the notes soft but inspiring. Levi closes his eyes, leaning back to just listen.

“What will you do after this?”

Hanji hums, crossing their arm over their chest. They absentmindedly stare into the ceiling. “I’ll do as I’ve always done. Keep aiding my people in the hopes that this will be over soon.” They pause, sheets rustling as they roll over. “There’s place for you, you know? “

“You know I can’t.” He opens his eyes sleepily, failing to repress a smile as they press a soft kiss to his lips. They smile, humming satisfied. 

“Yes, I know.”

* * *

In the morning, they’re gone, and so is his book. The wings of freedom however, is left on the bedside table together with his notes. He clings to the newly acquired necklace, and his hastily made notes, heading off in the direction of the closest bay. There is a emptiness in his left jacket pocket, previously filled by the weight of his journal. The journals sold at the local convenience stores proclaims that there still isn’t any sign of the war ceasing soon. He doesn’t buy one, but quietly notes down what to tell his superiors when he returns and boards a boat.

Even when the little coal mining town disappears from view, he is certain, this won’t be his last encounter with Hanji Zoë.


	4. Malady

**Malady**

_ Noun _

_ A disease or ailment _

* * *

 

The smoke from a stumped sigarette snakes through the crisp evening air, adding to the already polluted aroma of the city. From the balcony of the eleventh floor, Levi has a perfect view of the shimmering lights omitted from the nicer part of town.

Beside him on a makeshift table created from a potato crate Mike stole last week sits a single book. It’s an obscure little thing, once hidden away in the bscmost shelf of a shady bookshop downtown. He almost didn’t notice it; wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the insignia carved into the leather bound cover: a pair of wings crossing each other. 

The symbol seems strangely familiar, and is about the only interesting thing about the book. The content is quite honestly a mess, consisting of inconsistent notes made by an unknown author. Most of the theories are truly the work of some lunatic (cause who believes in giant man eating creatures anyway?) but one of them, he feels inexplicably drawn to. Levi has never been a believer, but with all the crap he’s been through, ideas like reincarnation doesn’t seem too far fetched.

He stretches not feeling particularly motivated to do anything. Downstairs, his bike is chained to the wall, waiting for him to get his ass down there and head to work. 

In the room across the hall he can hear Mike retching again. He’s been going on like that all fucking week. Levi knows it’s a telltale sign he’s running low on meds again, but refusing to acquire a new batch. The gentle giant never tells him, but Levi can tell he’s rationing them even though he shouldn’t, refusing to spend more of their income than he absolutely needs to. Levi doesn’t argue, even though he can tell the disease is ripping the man apart from the inside. It’s the same for everyone.

He sighs, finally dragging himself out of the comfort of his chair, limping out the door. Even he cannot escape the sickness hanging over their little district. 

The air is even worse on ground level than on the balcony. It reeks of smoke and trash that has been left alone for a little too long. The smells are fitting for the hell hole of a city he’s had the misfortune of being born into.

He wrinkles his nose. Unlike the sound of drunkards stumbling through the streets or the sight of poverty and decay, he’s never been able to get used to the foul smells. Even as he scans the area for the source he can’t identify it, probably because smells like them are too integrated into the city’s flesh and bones.

His eyes lands on the other side of the street where a homeless person is curled up in a plaid blanket. Their brown hair is a greasy mess, covering a pair of glasses that’s framing apathetic eyes. Their stare burns as he throws his gaze down and unchains his bike. The person could just as easily have been him.

He can feel their eyes following him as he throws his leg over his bikes and takes off in the general direction of the park where he works as a caretaker. Part of him wants to turn around and do  _ something _ . Exactly what, he doesn’t know. He sees homeless people on the street on a daily basis. There’s nothing he can do for them, barely able to provide for himself and his dying flatmate. He thought he was used to it by now, immune against the hopeless stares and silent pleas. 

Kuchel taught him compassion and Kenny how to survive. In the past years, only the latter has been on his mind. He regrets not listening more to his mother while she was around.

When he finishes cleaning the old school building on 5th street, it is raining outside. Not the hostile kind of rain which hits hard enough for it to hurt, but the kind of rain you see in movies if you’re lucky enough to go to one. The light outside the building illuminates the descending drops, allowing him to watch them crash into the pavement violently before scattering and fueling the small river that has formed by the storm drain. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and hopes to god he’ll be able to get home before his hands freeze off.

The rain makes it difficult to see or hear anything, which to his dismay slows him down considerably. By the time he’s back in his own district, he’s almost slipped and fallen a total of three times, and been almost run over twice. The latter almost becomes thrice as an ambulance speeds past him right before his turn onto his street. Its sirens is blaring, reminding him of long nights spent awake in his mother’s lap in the shadier districts of the city. A cold sensation settles within him, and for a moment, he’s worried it might’ve been Mike, except there’s no way the other man would’ve left the flat, meaning Levi would be the first to know if he were to die.

Still, he hurries. He pushes past the little crowd that has gathered, a sinking feeling in his gut pulling him forward. His heart is beating almost painfully hard against his ribs, throat tightening at the sight before him.

The person lying face down on the pavement is no one he knew well, yet something about them is familiar, like an old photograph of a distant relative. There’s no blood or any visible damage to the body, although the person is painfully thin, a common sight in a neighbourhood where half of the people is either sick or starving. The plaid quilt is still wrapped tightly around them, now soaked and probably doing more harm than good.

Levi sinks down on his knees, hands reaching out to hold the lifeless ones before him, despite the protests of the paramedics. Someone in the crowd is shouting that they should let him through since no one else appears to know the person. 

Levi wants to say he is hardly qualified, a reluctant glance exchanged from the other side of the street hardly enough to truly  _ know _ someone. If he’d known them, they wouldn’t be dead in his arms right now.

“I’m sorry Hanji.”

Hanji? He’s not sure where the name came from. But it spills from his lips effortlessly, as if it’s been uttered by him countless times before. Again, his mind strays to the book about reincarnation, and titans. The person looks like they’d like titans. He should’ve showed them the book. 

Behind him, one of the medics is getting impatient, pulling insistently at his shoulder, to which he yells something that doesn’t register even to himself. He looks helplessly up at the woman who is staring at him with pitying eyes, insisting that they have to remove the body from the premises. 

Rain is still falling.

He feels as numb and useless as the corpse before him, allowing the medics to load it onto a stretcher while he just sits there on his knees, getting even more drenched than he already was. Levi isn’t a cryer, especially not for strangers on the street. Tears stream freely from his eyes, mixing with the rain. Around him the crowd starts to thin. 

He doesn’t realise he’s the only one left before the medic from before taps his shoulder, handing him a crumpled up slip of paper. She nods at him before getting into the car, leaving him alone to what is yet again just an empty street and a dying friend. He doesn’t open the note before he is inside again. 

_ “Fate’s a bitch, huh. See you in the next one. -H” _


	5. Hypnagogia

**Hypnagogia**

_ Noun _

_ The state between sleep and wakefulness _

* * *

 

Hanji is a chronic dreamer. 

Waking up is always a mess. The first thing that meet them is light; big, ugly light bulbs dangling from their cords. Piles of books surrounds them on the floor, an unwelcoming receiver of them and their blankets after yet another tumble out of bed. They reach for the pair of glasses that’s resting on the nightside table, scrambling up from the chilly wood. Nothing says wake up more than a cold floor at 6 am.

The alarm clock on the bedside table reveals it is still three hours until their classes start, which leaves them with more than enough time to catch another hour of rest (and they probably should, considering they barely slept the past week). Instead, they grab a worn leather-bound journal and flips to the first unused page.

There is a certain moment between wakefulness and sleep in which the line between reality and dream fades, allowing the two clashing worlds to meet in a split second of mayhem. The moment always leaves them reeling, clinging to the fading memories of too realistic dreams. It leaves them with an empty feeling, as if they’ve forgotten something. They always try remembering. They never quite do.

Still, half-truths are better than no truths, so they do their best to write down the few things they  _ can _ remember. Today it’s grey eyes and a stern voice and the feeling of relief, a rare occurrence in their usually violent dreams. Not for the first time, they wish they cut put their dreams into pictures like Moblit does. It fascinates her how he can wield a pencil with such precision, creating amazing illustrations from nothing but a blank canvas and memories to paint it with. Sometimes he will draw Hanji’s too, but they have long since stopped pestering him for it, as they can’t really  _ show _ him what their brain looks like.

Instead they safekeep their thoughts in words. 

* * *

Outside their flat, christmas decorations are strung up everywhere. They grin up at the glittering lights, feeling cheery, despite not having anyone to celebrate the holiday season with. Their breath creates small clouds in the air. They rub their fingers together, silently wishing they had a pair of mittens.

The trek to the train station is only a few minutes long, but by the time they enter the huge building, their hands are already a angry shade of red. They don’t really mind, following the flow of the crowd, just another fish in the shoal. 

They find a bench with a good overview of the station, still over an hour until their train departs. Pulling out their book, they start writing. It is an exercise they begun after they accidentally bumped into Moblit at a café. Often, seeing a face is enough to trigger the buried memories of past lives. Big public spaces are usually the best. They found Erwin at a grocery store, and Nanaba at art museum downtown. Neither of them had met many, although they could confirm Hanji’s suspicions about possible past lives through retelling their dreams (It had involved a lot of begging and pleading from their side.) 

It’s been over a year since their last encounter with a past friend, but they know there’s still more. Black hair, voice soft like snow on christmas day. They shake their head, knowing thinking too hard about it will only chase the memory away.

To their disappointment, they have no luck with their extra time spent on the train station. The people come and go, their faces unfamiliar, just shadows passing through their life before they vanish again. Not letting it get them down, Hanji takes the escalator down to the platform and gets on their train. Their day is uneventful. They sit through their last lecture of the year, eyes drooping as they wait for the class to be over, barely paying any attention to subjects that would normally interest them. 

Their classmates exit the lecture hall, chattering happily about the holidays. Hanji gathers up their things slowly, contemplating other places that might give results. Lost in thought, they don’t notice the figure approaching them before a hand lands on their shoulder, startling them. They huff, turning around annoyedly. “Erwin Smith.”

Erwin smiles, offering to take their school bag which they happily accept. Living only two blocks away from Hanji, their school route isn’t very different. They both set off with a relaxed pace, snowflakes peppering their hair with white.

“No luck today?” Erwin asks. Unlike Hanji, he only retains vague memories of his past lives. Hanji has tried to trigger more by telling him what they can remember, but Erwin rarely manages to live the memories as more than a dream. Fortunately, that doesn’t keep him from being interested in Hanji’s research on the matter.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Maybe he’s simply just not here? I’ve looked everywhere, but nowhere gives off that feeling, you know? I guess I kinda knew before I met you, or Moblit or Mike. I don’t know anymore Erwin.”

“Still can’t remember the face?” Hanji shakes their head. They’ve tried many times. Tried describing their vague dreams for Moblit to sketch. Tried to force themselves to sleep with pen and paper ready in their hands. 

Erwin hums, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The holidays are coming up soon. If you want to, you can celebrate with me and Nile. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much.” 

Hanji grimaces. Erwin’s roommate is not someone Hanji would voluntarily hang out with, much less celebrate christmas with. They can vaguely remember him being a prick in their past lives as well, the times he showed up. Still, Erwin is too generous for his own good, and even though it’s beyond Hanji, the two seems to be on good terms. 

They smile sheepishly at Erwin. “No thanks, I don’t want to impose, and I have this feeling about christmas, like my missing link is somehow connected to it.” 

Erwin nods. Not for the first time, Hanji is glad the older man is not easily offended. “I see. In that case, I hope you find what you’re looking for then.”

“I do too”.

* * *

It’s too cold to be outside, yet, they charge down the street, notebook in hand. The mittens they got from Erwin are the only thing keeping their fingers from falling off. They scan their paper, looking for the next stop at their plotted route for the day. December 25th, christmas day.

They check the wall first, because they can clearly remember the walls. Even though the looming walls turned gallery are far from the same walls as in their memories, they still feel a slight connection to them. The people down by the walls are mostly tourists, or just passerbys. None of them makes the bells go off in Hanji’s head, much to their disappointment.

The christmas market is bustling with people. Beautifully decorated stands and the scent of baked goods or roasted meat fills the air, accompanied by the cheerful sound of christmas songs. They indulge in a pastry, still warm. The sugar coating melts in their mouth, reminding them of sweet tea, and a exasperated voice telling them not to ruin the beverage with too much sugar.

_ Tea. He liked tea. _

There are a total of 11 tea shops in the city. Hanji visits all of them. In the end, they don’t find their missing person in neither tea shops nor market places. However, they did buy a packet of black tea blend, because they can remember their friend liking it.

The snowflakes are heavy by the time they reach their street, shoulders slumped in defeat after yet another wasted day. They sighs, resigning themselves to a long evening spent with their mutt, Sawney. 

They almost doesn’t notice the other person hurrying down the street, buried in several layers of clothing. They barely avoid bumping into each other, the other person cursing, muttering for Hanji to watch where they go. Maybe it’s the voice that sets them off.

They remember.

“Levi?”

The other person halts. Hanji can feel their heart thumping excitedly in their chest. Slowly, the stranger turns around, eyes wide in disbelief. “Hanji?”

Hanji screams in joy, running towards their friend and picking him up, ridiculous coats and everything. Levi yelps, demanding to be put down, although there is no venom in his voice. Hanji sets him down, but doesn’t let go, hugging him tightly.

“I’ve been looking  _ everywhere.  _ Where the fuck were you, you little jerk.”

“I could say the same thing. Have you found-” he trails off. Hanji takes his hands giddily. “You have no idea! Erwin, Nanaba, Mike, Moblit, they’re all here.”

Levi’s eyes grow soft, a small laugh escaping him. “I found Nifa a while ago. She forgave me about that time with Kenny. And also, I’ve bumped into some of the brats. I can’t believe you and the others were ganging up somewhere else all the time.”

“I can’t believe it took you so long to find us. You should go out more, you hermit.” Hanji knocks him gently over the head, crossing their arms. Levi just nods, arms hanging loose at his sides.

“So…”

“So?”

Hanij takes his hand, leading him up to their flat. “No plans for tonight I hope?”

“Not really.”

“Great! It’s settled then. You’re coming with me.”

Levi doesn’t protest as they pull him along, leading him up the crooked stairwell. He stares awestruck at the place, Moblit’s drawings and Hanji’s notes covering most of the walls. Hanji grins, leading him to a worn couch.

“Nice place.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? I really missed your sorry ass, your glasses are still shitty, and I’m honestly offended that’s the best you could do with your memories of me,” he motions to one of Moblit’s drawings. Hanji just laughs, leaning into his shoulder. It’s been long since they’ve felt this happy. They don’t realise Levi’s been staring before they finally manages to calm down.

His grey eyes bore into them, a hint of conflict in them. His lips part slightly, drawing Hanji’s attention to the chapped edges. He swallows.

“Do you mind if I try something?”

“Go ahead.” 

It feels like he takes an eternity to lean down, gently brushing his lips against theirs, uncertain at first, then with more force. Hanji squeals happily, tangling their fingers in the longer parts of his hair. They stop to part for air too soon, leaving Hanji’s heart racing, and their fingers itching. Levi stares back in awe, as if he cannot believe they’re actually there. 

“Well that was nice.” His voice is somewhat hoarse. Hanji grins straddling his lap. It draws a choked noise from Levi, but he doesn’t move. 

“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?”

“How about it?”

They laugh, unable to contain their smiles. “I just thought it was fitting. You don’t get as great birthday presents as me every year.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Love you too.”

“Merry christmas, four eyes.”


End file.
